


Chosen to Rise

by CherryMilkshake



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Original Character(s), Trespasser DLC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 13:05:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4961704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryMilkshake/pseuds/CherryMilkshake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amelia Trevelyan has never been <i>given</i> anything. Andraste's choosing her is both gift and duty, and Amelia is bound.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chosen to Rise

**Author's Note:**

> **Trespasser spoilers!**  
> [Amelia is albino.](http://41.media.tumblr.com/ff78f1bb064522e67ceed77024343a8e/tumblr_nvdawhVNF51qh2pnuo1_1280.jpg) [This is her cousin](http://41.media.tumblr.com/1867a962b8fbf626c6a86acb228c4b3e/tumblr_nsmpz7sxaw1qh2pnuo5_1280.jpg), and should give you an idea what her family was expecting when she was born.

Amelia Trevelyan had fought her entire life.

First, against a family that considered her a punishment for their sins. She was _diseased_ , the wrong color skin, the wrong color hair, and half-blind. She was rebellious and spiteful, always fighting for a way out. 

Then, when she had finally escaped them, wearing their name like too-small boots, she became the Herald of Andraste and received a new world of battles to be fought.

In spite of it all though, she made friends, true ones. And found love. 

After the death of Corypheus, things were not easy certainly, but they fell into a rhythm she could live with. She no longer had to fight to prove herself. She was respected, feared, and loved, all at once. Her family had tried to come back as if they'd done no wrong, and she'd had the strength to turn them away.

That night, she'd drank with the Bull until the world blurred, sadness and exaltation in equal measure. And after he'd carried her to bed when her legs no longer obeyed her will, she'd woken with Cullen beside her, his hand on hers, murmuring that he was proud of her.

The Inquisition was fighting for peace and order across Thedas, and Amelia was the captain at its helm. 

But it could not last. She had to fight again.

First against the Exalted Council, then against Qunari, then against her own _fucking_ hand. 

The first, she could have dealt with. It was difficult, but not too different from the now-familiar rhythm of favors and friends and deals and secrets. 

Against the Qunari, it was harder. The Bull was angry at his ignorance, scared by it. Her solid rock of Ben-Hassrath-trained spy was unsteady under her feet. 

Her footing only grew more unstable when she looked Cole in those wide sad eyes and heard him say, "I'm sorry."

Her feet slipped out from under her when the pain flared up at the makeshift war table, too intense for her to bite back her scream, and she saw the horror in her husband's eyes. 

She grounded her stance. She had to be the rock now. She felt nothing but the weight of duty.

"I will stop the Dragon's Breath," she said. 

Cullen looked as if he meant to stop her, but he could find no words. 

His haunted expression followed her through the eluvian. "Bull," she said. "If I don't come back—"

He cut her off. "You don't say things like that, understand? You're making it back, Boss, even if that means I'm carrying you there."

His hand was strong and warm on her shoulder. 

_Maraas nehraa_. The door was opened.

"Hissrad, I need you!"

"Not a chance, ma'am." 

The dragon was dead.

Magic lanced up her arm with every heartbeat, swelling and bursting forth in a shower of sickly green light. 

And the mind behind it all was revealed. His face nauseatingly familiar. 

"I will stop you," she spat. 

"I know you will try," he said, and she wanted nothing more than to feel his neck snap under her palms. 

Her took her hand away, and walked beyond her reach. 

She watched her hand melt like dripping wax, glowing and unnatural green, sinking into the flagstones beneath her.

Solas entered the great mirror, and was gone.

The pain was like fire as her arm burned away, shrinking her world to only its shriek. She didn't know if it was just her nerves screaming, or her voice as well. 

In darkness, floating, swaying, fading.

The touch of magic brought back her voice. Vivienne's words, cold but only with focus. "Stay still, dear. Drink." The potion making her lips tingle, the sensation of ants crawling down her throat as she swallowed. 

Darkness again, this time a comfort.

\-- 

When she woke again as herself, Cullen was sitting in a chair beside her bed in the Winter Palace, head nodded forward in restless sleep. Against the door, the Iron Bull stood, axe head down on the floor, his fingers laced over the hilt. She looked at him and he smiled in relief. "Good evening, Boss."

Cullen woke at the sound. He stroked her face, holding it to his, his voice too choked to speak. The Iron Bull slipped out the door, leaving them alone.

Amelia reached for him, then stopped when she saw her outstretched arms. There was only one hand before her. Her left arm was gone below the elbow, a lattice of ugly scars wrapped like crawling vines up the stump. 

She was crippled.

The right hand opened and closed in quiet shock, only a sharp pain where the left one should be. 

Cullen took her hand, lacing their fingers together. "You are alive, Amelia. That is what's most important."

"Solas is going to destroy the world, and I am _crippled_ ," she spat, wrenching her hand away, curling it around herself. She allowed herself only that moment, before she was getting out of the bed, pacing across the floor, heedless of her nakedness.

"What can we do? We need to stop him, but this Council is going to try and disband us after this whole fiasco. And we're full of _fucking_ spies." She kicked over an empty chair. "We need the Inquisition's people, without its bulk."

Cullen stood up, gathering up her clothes. "Leliana had a suggestion you might want to hear," he said. "Let's get you dressed and you can go ask her."

"I can dress myself," she snapped. But getting her pants fastened was proving beyond her. Hot, angry tears coursed down her cheeks. 

Cullen knelt and did up the laces, then helped slip the jacket around her shoulders. "You are allowed to ask your husband for help, Amelia," he said gently.

A shuddering breath escaped her mouth and she nodded, swiping angrily at her face. "Let's go find Leliana."

Once they entered the hallway, Amelia saw how many people had been waiting for her to emerge.

As fragile and worn as she felt, seeing them was a blessing. And Leliana was sitting a little behind them, ready to talk. 

The conversation was long. They discussed scenarios back and forth, weighing options. Cullen sat beside Amelia, occasionally contributing, but mostly just holding her. As the sun rose the next morning, they made a decision.

As the day's Council began in earnest in the meeting hall, Vivienne fussed over Amelia jacket, straightening it, smoothing it with a quick spell. Iron Bull made another appearance, along with Krem. "Hey, Boss," he said. "Let Krem fix up that sleeve for you."

"Why not just let it dangle?" she asked.

The Bull's eye narrowed. "Let them see what you gave to save their ungrateful asses. And how nobody should dare to fuck with you."

She grinned sharply and held up the stump. "Then, by all means."

Krem made quick work of it, the stitches neat and professional looking. Even Vivienne seemed mildly impressed. 

Leliana returned, handing her the writ of Divine Justinia V. Amelia tucked the book under her arm, and marched down to the hall, her steps assured and her will laced with steel.

She shouldered open the doors, walking up to the Council. A hush fell over the room. "You know what this is?" she asked the Council, holding it up for the entire crowd to see. "We pledged to close the Breach and restore order, with or without anyone's permission." She tucked it back under her arm, looking up at Divine Victoria. "There's worse coming," she said, unafraid to meet the angry gaze of Arl Teagan Guerrin. "So we'll _play nice_." She looked to Duke Cyril. "We'll bow. But _not_ to you."

"We will be Divine Victoria's personal honor guard and a peacekeeping force for Thedas. Our mission is far from over." 

And with that, she left the room, ignoring the wasp nest of voices that sprang up behind her. 

Her mark might be gone, but she could still feel Andraste's blessing and her call to action. The world was hers to save, and she would fulfill her duty.

She was relieved when Cullen chose to retire from active service though. She would see her other arm lopped off before she would see him hurt in her defense. 

And as she sat in Skyhold, listening to the lonely howl of the mountain winds in the quiet of her missing army, she could feel Andraste's presence at her side, and was comforted.


End file.
